Not Exactly Healthy
by ESMASTER
Summary: A cheesing Mysterion and a schizophrenic Coon are not helped by the union of love, or are they? Sequel to "Truth Be Told". Coonsterion/Keneric.
1. Chapter 1 - Jornal

**A/N I repeat, this is a sequel to "Truth Be Told", /s/12366475/. If you didn't like that one, you're sure as fuckhell not going to like this one, so proceed with caution. Rated M for eventual sex, non-con, violence and Cartman being horribly crude. Certain plot points of the original game were disregarded, but the story assumes that you did play it.**

 **Big thanks to my beta, SumKum, for helping me with typos and other nonsense.**

 **This fic becomes dark, I think. There is no A/N from this point on (with one exception), so good luck, traveler.**

The Coon prepared his newly acquired "jornal" on his desk with a glower of mischief. If that Douchebag wanted to play games, he'd play games. This time, instead of letting him ransack his room without permission, he would lure him instead. Douchebag would soon be trying to infiltrate the Coon and Friends base, so the only way to find the passcode was through this unattractive handbook.

He summoned his vilest thoughts for the task. To start… shit. Shit… list. The shittiest people he knew? Yes! Perfect. First off was _KYLE._ Stupid Jew piece of shit. Second, Mom. He always blamed her for her loose lifestyle, he always would. Then _CLYDE_ , whom he could never forgive for starting a dark army against his own. Then of course the Mexican… ("Fucking David…" he muttered) Finally, PC Principal. The very thought of him made him gag, the asshole whose strict code included concessions to others, restraint in language, and beating to shit violators of said code (read: Cartman).

His list completed, he thought to add some drawings. That was the real way he was going to scare Douchebag. So he thought of unattractive people. _Kahl. Definitely Kahl._

"Then what about…"

Butters… ew! So maybe Butters and Kahl… having sex!

He convulsed in his seat, attacked by his own mad fit of laughter. Sex, as in his mother's employment. Sex, as in using one's dick for pleasure. An atrocious act to never be repeated. His amusement faded into a faint blush.

The story of the Stick of Truth was good and done. And he was pissed as fuck at Douchebag for ruining it.

His fingers tingled as he finished the drawings; it was pretty fun to do, even if they weren't anyone he actually wanted. But that was the whole point. It was only after all the graphic nonsense he snuck in the password. Good luck, Douchebag. As he hurried back to base, he couldn't help wonder how his commercial rivals were faring.

* * *

In the training room, Toolshed and Mysterion stood facing each other. They had been practicing for awhile, perhaps too long, in effort to take their minds off things. Every individual at Freedom Pals was right to be agitated. The discrepancy between Coon & Friends that formed _Freedom Pals_ in the first place was reason enough, considering it broke up Tweek and Craig. But when their circle of superheroes got into problems outside of the franchise, things heated up.

Toolshed scowled fiercely and flung his screwdrivers from his sides. Mysterion sidestepped and shouted, "Melee range, Toolshed!" and promptly rounded up his opponent in a ghastly web. Toolshed was dragged with a snap and brutally thrown to the floor by Mysterion's fist. "We have no room to play coy fighting Coon & Friends."

"Give me a break, Mysterion," Stan complained as he rose to his feet. "I'm just feeling under the weather. I'm worried about Wendy…"

A sharp response. "Because she dumped you in the game of, what, relationships? We are superheroes right now, and we don't remember the wrong games."

No, that wasn't it at all, and Stan had to bite his tongue. He didn't understand why Mysterion was intent to conclude that Stan was _heartbroken_. Sure, he and Tupperware both got dumped during the last feminist rally in protest of Skankhunt42 (don't ask Stan why that was ever reasonable). But it was the notification Freedom Pals received from a signed _Call Girl_ claiming knowledge on the identity of the kingpin — the one causing resurgence in violence with the sixth-graders and the case of the missing cats. Considering that Wendy had deleted her Coonstagram account a day prior, there was no doubt the one and only _superheroine_ was his ex.

"OK, OK, I'll try harder." His head skewed sideways and his eyes narrowed. "But I need to rest first." He marched out to the Freedom Pals hub, leaving the glaring Mysterion behind him.

After the door clicked shut, Toolshed burst out, "Why's Kenny got to be such a dick when he's Mysterion? Acting like he's all better than us!"

Tupperware was the only other person in the room. "Don't ask me. I didn't put him in charge of the team. Doc Timothy did." He added, "And if it makes you feel any better, he was giving me a lot of shit earlier about Nichole, too." He still had a picture of her on his nightstand, which was in his room a couple levels above the base, if that was of any explanation.

Toolshed lowered his voice. "He's got a lot of baggage this past month. You don't think it's about… _earlier_ … right?"

Tupperware poked nervously at the casing on his helm. "I'm pretty sure—"

The door slammed back open, and Mysterion stood in the frame, holding it open with an extended arm. The look in his eyes was almost predator. Probably because Toolshed was talking as loudly enough so Mysterion could overhear.

"Hey, Mysterion!" Tupperware beamed innocently.

"Hello, Tupperware," he replied. Without a second acknowledgment to him or Toolshed, Mysterion exited the Freedom Pals base.

"Yeah, what a dick," the cyborg concluded.

Forwarded to all Freedom Pals cell numbers at 2:37 AM 10/16/2017: _I have information on the new crime boss in South Park. We need to schedule a meeting privately before I can give you the deets. Just don't tell anyone outside of Freedom Pals about this. -Call Girl_

Mysterion did not stomp. He didn't march like Toolshed, or scurry like Wonder Tweek. He glided. Furiously. Why was he angry? To start, he was looking at his phone. Not a good idea right now. He sought an answer to his frustrations, and saw it in the stumbling, exploring New Kid. Instinctively he called out, "Douchebag!" but it went unnoticed. "Damn this douche…" he mumbled, and produced his exclusive, Freedom-Pal-leader access to all character sheets, courtesy of their psychic Doctor. The New Kid had a sheet, too, after registering with the Coon.

 _The Coon._

He smothered his sudden flush with additional analysis on the New Kid. On his paper, he was self-proclaimed _The Amazing Butthole_. Race, gender, religion… unknown.

Under his breath he scoffed, " _Amazing?_ Cartman must have come up with that…" He shouted again: "Hey, Butthole!" The New Kid stopped, looking confusedly in the direction of the voice. This was his chance. He used his ability of phasing through shadow and appeared before the amazingly indifferent Butthole.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, New Kid," he lied. He already knew him, had already been his companion. And it certainly wasn't a pleasure. He hated Butthole after the way the last game ended. "You know more about what's going on than one can tell. You're different, I'll give you that. And if you…" Why was he saying this? He was too pissed to be saying this. "…need my help, I am willing to provide it. You could be a benefit to us, you know. Especially if you're already integrated into Coon & Friends."

Butthole shot him an angry look.

He sighed. Of course, Butthole must not have known it was Princess Kenny talking; his anger was related to the current game. Good for him, then. "I know you're loyal to Cartman. But the opportunity still stands. And I _know_ this wouldn't be your first time betraying his trust." He felt himself overstep the boundaries of Mysterion's knowledge. Everyone knew Sir Douchebag remained loyal to the Wizard King during the attack on the school, despite the supplications of the High Jew. But he had betrayed him in a way more personal, so personal no one but he and Kenny understood it to be betrayal.

Suddenly, Mysterion felt his outrage toward the reformed douche subside, splashed away by the waves of his thoughts. Douchebag hadn't betrayed Cartman because he wanted to make things worse for them. He had genuinely believed to be helping their relationship. It wasn't his fault Cartman was scared off… it was Cartman's.

As if he could hear Mysterion internally pardon him, Douchebag came forward for a selfie. In reality, Mysterion supposed, it was an approval of their potential alliance. He said gruffly, "Okay, just this once, Butthole." He felt distracted, not minding the wait as the New Kid adjusted the camera. All his blame, all his anger, was fixated elsewhere.

No sooner than the mobile device clicked did Mysterion give way to the dazzling pops of firecrackers. They barely made Butthole blink, but Mysterion disappeared all the same. Or ran away. Whatever you like to call it.

* * *

Cartman tapped his fine, beastly shoe against the conference table. Most of his job consisted of assigning classes, dishing out quests and managing purchases in the Coon Store. What work! He fondled all the dollar bills he was accumulating, counting them over and over. They were the only respite in the life of a superhero such as himself. He sighed dramatically. Then there was a quiet tip-tap down the staircase. Grateful for any company, he said, "Greetings, Butthole!"

The newbie approached his boss with a complacent frown. He opened his phone and faced it toward the Coon. The Coon quirked a brow, feeling frustrated again.

"Yes, you have been assigned to take selfies, I know." Butthole continued to hold it up. "Ugh, what is it?"

As he had since learned, 99% of the time, to trust Butthole's initiative, he leaned forward and squinted. "Is that…" His eyes widened. "Holy shit, is that Mysterion?"

The Amazing Butthole needed not nod, and Cartman shone with triumph. It was an image of Mysterion cranking open a crate of cheesing vials. "Good job, Butthole." His voice had an enthusiastic skip. It confirmed Mysterion had been going behind EVERYONE'S back, including his own team, and was stealing drugs from the enemy himself. Probably for personal profit, selfish bastard. "Not even I could have predicted this."


	2. Chapter 2 - Fat Cat

"Here, Kitty, Kitty..."

Parka tightened secure about him, Mysterion's alter-ego, Kenny, quit his run-down home. It was the morning, a new day for Freedom Pals. But Mysterion wasn't quite ready to resume the daily grind. His muffled voice called out from the porch, "(So you haven't found the cat yet, Dad?)"

Stuart was sleepily inspecting yet another disgraceful pile of junk. "No, of course not, son. I keep telling you, if you want that fat thing so bad, we should get your brother and sister to help us."

"(No! I'm leaving Karen out of this.)" And Kevin. But especially not Karen. He sunk in a shade of guilt. It wasn't just _Coon & Friends_ that wanted Scrambles. Freedom Pals thought they were in it for the heroism of returning a citizen their lost cat. But it wasn't for the money.

Stuart continued, frustrated, "And I'd ask for your _mom_ to help, but if I had her support, I wouldn't be wanting to cheese in the first place."

Kenny cast his father a sympathetic look. It was once of the few instances he could relate to his wiry sire. His mother was drinking more often, and had become… apathetic in her affections towards her husband. A little ironic, considering there weren't many pleasures to turn to in their poverty; marital sex should have been a _given_. So that's where the old alternative came in: cheesing was a historical craze in South Park. Back then Stuart didn't need it, but Kenny loved it. After a lot of politics Kenny would rather forget, all cheesing contraptions were removed by authorities. Courtesy of Kyle's inherited Jewish mother techniques, there was no getting them back in the McCormick residence. Kenny knew Kyle was just overcompensating for his own father's excess, and could forgive his intrusive attitude.

But it wasn't just Kyle. Stan, Cartman, and Butters tried to encourage Kenny to make "healthier" life decisions by keeping him away from the cats, away from the pheremonal flowers. As if any of them understood. Kenny's health was of no consequence; he was immortal. His friends _could not_ understand his curse and neither his ensuing loneliness.

He huffed as he walked past his dad. Of course they didn't. Not even Stuart knew how Kenny was feeling; he just thought Kenny's addiction was a matter of genetics and took fatherly pride in it. Kenny circled back to the more urban section of his backyard, up the steps to _Steed_. He had a nice lookout there, telescope and everything. It was about the same since he, Token and the rest of the gang played ninjas there. Sometimes some hobos would come by, loiter on the patio, but these weren't the kind Kenny wanted to scare away. Instead Mysterion would listen, and he discovered interesting things. That the _bigwig_ , the _boss_ — whoever the Hell _he_ was — kept camp at the SoDoSoPa ruins.

What's more, the chatty vagrants taught him the real, actual location of the concentrated cat urine. This he wouldn't tell his father, because if between the both of them they took too much, the criminal business would be onto his scheme, and his friends might be onto him, too. He only took what he needed: a few vials every week. It lasted his addiction, kept him from going completely beserk.

Kenny's ailment was, lamentably, not a secret. And it was all that darn Butthole's fault.

* * *

"Oh, fuck, Butthole, what do you want now?"

Cartman stayed put in the lair, wondering what to do with the information. He contemplated having Douchebag release it on Coonstagram and watch Freedom Pals fall apart. He could announce it to his troupe, boost morale and go from there. ("Freedom Pals aren't real heroes!" was the angle he could take) Or take the Coon's favorite route, and blackmail. But no matter what, he had to do it soon. Kenny was a slippery one.

All thoughts considered, Butthole was staying put in the lair, too. It was totally killing his vibe. He tried to figure out why the new kid was stalling. Then he remembered the journal he planted. That must have been why he was confused — serves the snoopy bastard right. And while the same snoop had just earned the franchise a compelling legal leverage, he had to make sure he wouldn't want to go through _his_ shit again. If he already "knew" everything, then he wouldn't want to know anything more.

The Coon snickered. Without a doubt, Douchebag was convinced his secret cravings were Human Kite, Professor Chaos, and SuperCraig. He searched Butthole's eyes for confusion inevitable. "Oh, I see you must already viewed the contents of my journal. How unfortunate for you. What a nasty surprise that must have been!"

Butthole blinked tiredly. "Well, it's true. I secretly lust after Human Kite and Butters. And Craig's fat ugly dick is the hottest thing known to mankind." He vainly admired his claws as he went on, "Gross, right? But here's the thing, Assface, some things are not meant for others to know, especially things that concern the _Coon_. . ."

"OH MY GOD, SERIOUSLY?" Wait, did Butthole just talk?

Craig was at the top of the stairs with a look of disgust. Oh fuck.

"What the Hell are you telling our poor Butthole, fatass?" Kyle growled.

Said fatass almost flourished his explanation, but Craig yanked the New Kid from his seat, ignoring the brunet. "C'mon Butt, let's go beat up some sixth graders."

He acted like the New Kid was innocent or something, but that wasn't true. His dad fucked his mom at a young age, and that had turned him crooked. Cartman was only setting him back on the right path. Find out what other people do under the radar, then you better expect something ugly. Something perhaps uglier than parental love-making.

He didn't bother looking at their faces as they abandoned him, spitting stubbornly on his iPad. The Coon was soon left alone in his lair. _You'll be back!_ That's what the Coon Store liked to say to its customers, and it only said that because it was right. His friends always hated him, always thought he was gross, but they'd follow him anyway. A lot of profit was to be made from his schemes, and that was the only pleasure he or they needed in this game.

He splayed back out the gains from the Coon Store and counted again.

* * *

"Man, I'm so fucking through with that fatass," said Kyle, after properly venting his anger by kicking sixth grade butt that were silly enough to think could ambush _Coon & Friends_.

"Why?" Clyde asked with an added _zzz!_

"He's saying perverted things again," SuperCraig explained, shrugging. "Trying to scare Butthole. I mean, he can have whatever sick fantasies he likes, but we gotta admit our leader is… unhinged."

"Oh. Uh. Ew?"

Said Human Kite, "Apparently he's still mad at Butthole for raiding his room in the last game, and is trying to scare him with… graphic imagery."

"Like…?"

Craig described the illustrations in minute detail and Clyde puked.

Fastpass had been listening to the conversation with a patient ear. "I think it's perfectly OK the Coon is coming to terms with his s-s-s…sexuality."

"Right. We don't care what the Coon's into, so can we put this behind us and focus on progressing the franchise like normal superheroes?" said Craig.

"But that's not what it's about!" argued Human Kite. "He's acting out of hand, and seems to really hate the New Kid."

"That doesn't make it any less a waste of our time."

" _Zzzz!_ You're just defending him 'cause you're gay!"

"I'M NOT DEFENDING HIM."

The four _Coon & Friends_ fell into a rapid state of bickering, all except for the Amazing Butthole. This one turned his gaze away to their incognito spies: Three members of the Freedom Pals were posted a couple houses away, across the street from Stan's home.

Said Tupperware, "What do you see?"

Tweek peered into the binoculars. "They're fighting. Wow. Craig's pretty upset." He fidgeted.

"Huh. What about?"

"How am I supposed to know?"

"Any evidence you can see would be good, WonderTweek," said Mysterion calmly. "There's a lot you can tell just by their faces."

Taking the advice, Tweek chattered, "Human Kite's angry. Fastpass is angry. Boy, SuperCraig is PISSED. King D-… _Butthole_ doesn't really seem to care." Then Tweek noticed the direction of the New Kid's gaze. "Shit! He sees us!"

"Concentrate. You haven't checked Mosquito yet." Fortunately for them, Douchebag was a mute, but that didn't stop Mysterion from having to mask his nervousness.

"Oh, right." He hobbled strategically closer to the bush before saying, "Mosquito… he's angry, too. Hey, is that _vomit_ on his face?"

Now Butthole was starting to get angry, and at _them_.

"Retreat! Retreat!" called Tweek, and the trio hid in the bush.

They were all squished in the small, nature-born containment. Said Tupperware, frowning, "I hope they won't find us in here."

"They won't," said Mysterion. He was the only one who didn't look completely uncomfortable. "They're too stupid."

"Okay…" After some awkward fidgeting in the confinement, Token attempted speculation. "Does, uh, anyone have any ideas why Clyde barfed?"

WonderTweek gave a twitching shrug, and Mysterion finally said, "We'll discuss the matter in base. In the meantime… is the coast clear yet, Tweek?"

After repeated asking on Mysterion's part, WonderTweek could confirm that indeed the Coon & Friends were out of line of vision, and the surveillance mission retreated back to base for another convention.

* * *

"Here's what we know, Freedom Pals:" Mysterion announced, standing in from of the blackboard, chalk in hand. "There's a rift within _Coon & Friends_. Something obviously… disgusting has happened, and they're conflicted over it." He directed his gaze to the contemplative Doctor Timothy. He sat in his wheelchair knowingly. That was another thing Douchebag had in common with his team members, Mysterion reflected. Smarter than he looked.

He continued, "The Coon, besides Captain Diabetes who is on leave for repeated abuse of his blood sugar levels, was the only Coon & Friend not present. I can only imagine what a little shit of a leader he's been. Bad news for them; good news for us. Given that and our upcoming alliance with Call Girl, who will shine some light on whose behind the crime. From what she's been hinting is that the Coon may be the culprit." His words were of no revelation to the team. Everyone was quick to blame Cartman; often out of ignorance. "Either way it's an advantage, and with it we can easily recruit new members to our side."

Stan added, "Like Butthole?"

"Yes, Butthole is one of our best candidates. Even new kids deserve a chance to join, because remember…" It was the team's cue.

"Retribution! With inclusion!" They all cheered. It was a short meeting.

Mysterion abandoned the group as his colleagues discussed potential motives of the Coon to tear up his own group. Privately he knew it to be just another misunderstanding. There was no way he was behind all this. Cartman couldn't lie like he could. The Coon couldn't keep secrets like he did. That he was a regular customer of the underground cat urine dealers, the _Freedom Pals_ didn't know. All except for Doctor Timothy, who knew every mind to ascertain their confidence. But Timmy never minded Kenny's secrets, nor judged his motives. All Kenny wanted, after all, was the eternal company of the Large-Breasted Woman.

Scrambles, here I come.

 **A/N Scrambles' urine has the magical effect of a permanent cheesing trip. This is where the fic gets confusing.**


	3. Chapter 3 - Plots and Argument

The Coon was fallen asleep on his stack of dollars, which were the meager earnings his subordinates brought in as of late. He hadn't seen them since the afternoon; they were off probably being useless somewhere. After all that, he still hadn't figured out what he was going to do about Mysterion, and the repetitive contemplation drew him into dreams rather than conclusions.

"Princess Kenny, Princess Kenny…"

" _Sleep well, Coon?"_ With a jolt he woke up, hearing a voice greatly unlike his dreams: " _I have come to tell you that I know exactly how to deal with that traitor."_

Gasp! It was Mitch Conner! And it seemed he was here with a similar agenda as himself: to deal with Mysterion. The Coon put on a brave face. "My arch nemesis! How do I know to trust you?"

" _Common interest. I'm the one he's been stealing from," he replied intelligently. "Most likely trying to acquire enough money to make his franchise bigger than yours."_

"You know, that's exactly what I was thinking," the Coon replied, impressed. The disembodied hand had amazingly similar motives as himself. Such similarity was something he could trust.

" _Since I run the entire business he's stealing from, I can easily take his sources away, ruining him and Freedom Pals."_

His newfound admiration for his blessed archrival paused, and he wondered what his hand meant by it "ruining Freedom Pals" as well. And…."sources"? Was Kenny already making so much money from his thefts that it was what was keeping Freedom Pals on its feet? It had to be about the money. Cash and profit were the only thing that made sense to the Coon. He lowered his voice. "So, uh… how exactly do we do that?"

The ugly pink lips spoke menacingly before the hero. " _Enlist Butthole to infiltrate their group so we can steal all their secrets. The Freedom Pals seem to like him."_

"I don't think Mysterion likes him all that much, though," he replied skeptically. "I mean, _I_ don't. Butthole's a real butt."

" _And Mysterion is a pussy. It doesn't matter what he thinks,"_ Mitch snapped. " _Not to you, anyway. I've got this in a bag, and you just need to play along."_

"I don't want to leave it all in your hands," he told the tycoon bluntly, arms folded. He sniffed the air with his button nose. "Listen here, I'm the Coon, and I direct my own franchise, as well as the dealings with my competitors…"

Mitch Conner replied condescendingly, " _You can't do this on your own. Freedom Pals will take advantage of you in a heartbeat, and so will the New Kid, when given the chance."_

He already has, if he grimly recalled his stupid fucking _wedding_. He let the hand continue speaking. Respect was professional.

" _Mysterion already left you. He left you_ and _your precious franchise. And you can trust_ me _not to trust him."_

 _And neither should you._

He wasn't sure if he had heard or imagined those last words, and to his frustration Mitch Conner faded from his fists. In response he banged them against the table, feeling confused as fuck.

* * *

All things considered, Cartman had to give in. His recent encounter with his handy parasite changed his plans. That, and his angry colleagues wouldn't continue their membership unless he coughed up some sort of apology.

This was hard going for the Coon, as he cleared his throat before the latest Coon & Friends meeting. "I'm going to be honest with you, ButtLord, I don't like you. I don't trust you. You intrude on my privacy, join my group with… _hardly_ my permission." If the look of his comrades meant anything, the apology wasn't going well. He sighed, dragging the pads of his fingers over his nose. "But I have to give it to you: You're different, and you know a lot. And it's probably because a lot of people _do_ trust you. Which is useful."

"We trust you, Butthole," affirmed the Human Kite, obstinate.

Cartman rolled his eyes. "Okay, be professional, you guys. No need to be all sappy with the New Kid." He folded his hands together to change the mood. "Back to business. After the last confrontation with freedom pals, we know Toolshed owes us a favor for stopping his dad from drunk driving at night."

"Well, not us, he owes it to Butthole," put in Human Kite.

"And Captain Diabetes!"

He pretended Scott wasn't there. "However, this is in all of our favor. Which brings us to the next mission, and its two objectives. I already have a plan. One: we discreetly regroup with Butthole once Toolshed is too committed to the mission to back out."

"Toolshed? What?" said someone.

Captain Diabetes, who had now returned from his illness said: "That Toolshed owes us a favor for our stopping his dad from reckless driving.'

"Secondly…" The haughty Coon lifted a second finger, closing his eyes. "We must rise to the occasion and find whatever dirt we can on the Freedom Pals. We already got our CLASSIi lead out of Timmy's phone, so I think this is our best chance to see what we can find out from Mysterion's home.

"Mysterion, huh?" Kyle said quietly.

The Coon glared. "Yes, _Mysterion_. Is that a problem, Human Kite?"

"No, no, I just think it's funny that after…" Everyone stared at Kyle. "Never mind."

"Toolshed will be clearing the lava for us, what better time?" the Coon continued. "We can do some investigation."

Said Captain Diabetes, "When nobody's home, right?"

"They'll be _sleeping_." The Coon was exasperated. "We've got this. It's not like we're gonna be waking any of them up. If you guys are so afraid, I'll investigate on my own. The Coon is a master of stealth."

No one was afraid, but they couldn't help being annoyed.

* * *

The meeting with Call Girl was very important, yes. Or it was supposed to be important. The greater priority for Mysterion was stopping by the U-Stor-It, where he could get another visit with her, the Large-Breasted Woman. Of course, that wasn't what Kenny called her in his head, instead he preferred the name "Kelly" for an undisclosed personal reason. It was easy to think Mysterion was on any old stalking mission, the way he huffed arrogantly along. His companions would be retreating to their homes, and Coon & Friends knew better than to mess with Freedom Pals' bruiser from the Netherworld.

First he had to beat up some homeless people to get in… nothing conspicuous. Poor people tended to be hostile. And drug addicts, for that matter. Not that Kenny wasn't poor, or addicted, or hostile. Fuck his own kind, anyway. He had to break some boxes left out in the open. They themselves were inconspicuous, which was how Mysterion knew it was what he needed. Hiding in plain sight, the vials were inside the splintered wooden crates.

"This is good shit," Mysterion muttered, making him more like a druggie than he thought it would. Not caring if anyone saw him, he snuffed the vial of cat pee and immediately entered ecstasy. The hobos should already be unconscious and the trip would last no longer than thirty minutes.

Unfortunately, the easy solution to his problems was cut short within just a few. He didn't even get to save the princess from the four-boobed orcs. Nippopolis faded and he gasped, awake on the pavement with the rest of the vial contents spilled on his face. The solvent had gotten to his hair, stained golden locks tumbling out of his hood. He was a mess. He scratched the back of his head in confusion.

Was the recipe becoming diluted or was he developing a resistance? Only one way to know. He reached for a second vial, which wasn't there. He grasped about pathetically with blurred vision, but found nothing. While he had been on his tantalizingly short trip, the rest of the goods had disappeared.

Furious, the only sensible thing to do was swear. "Hell! Shit! Who fucking took it from me?"

As his head cleared with each crate he smashed, he realized he had to return to the Black Manor or he'd be late.

He grumbled, leaving the alley of empty crates, cursing whoever stole his cheese during his stay in Nippopolis.

* * *

The eagerly awaited meeting with Call Girl was arranged by the Freedom Pals to be within their base, Token's basement. They had offered to escort her there, where the meeting would inevitably take place, but she replied that she escort herself just fine, _thanks_.

Mysterion was grumpy the entire time, and apparently lost in thought, almost as much as Toolshed was lost in thought. When Wonder Tweek inquired, Mysterion said that he was tired of waiting. No one needed to bother Stan, in fact they all—excluding Mysterion—felt sorry for him.

The tension broke when client appeared at the basement window. Her voice drifted in, saying, "Excuse me. The security of Coon & Friends has been compromised, so I need to know: are we alone?"

"Yes, yes, we are!" Toolshed hurried to crank open the lock so she could get down, perhaps too anxious, but she slid the window to the side and jumped through before he could get the stool. She looked stylish and serious.

Hand on her hip, she said, "I'm gonna say it here and now: it's Cartman."

"WHAT," said Mysterion before anyone else could respond. "Are you fucking shitting me right now?" To the rest of Freedom Pals, his was just another one of his many nonsensical outbursts. No one knew what had gotten into him, since Mysterion was such a poor communicator. That was probably the reason why Dr. Timothy was their spokesperson and planner, and Mysterion was only the celebrity figurehead of the group.

She pressed on. "It wasn't hard to figure out. I only had to cross-reference his times of inactivity on Coonstagram with the timestamps of the crime boss orders on Snapchat. They align perfectly. _That_ , and both accounts of the kingpin and Cartman can be traced to the same IP address."

"Well, that confirms it!" said Tupperware, amazed with her expertise, while Mysterion remained in silent disbelief. "The Coon is a fat, lying cheater. We're gonna need to do something about this."

"Wait, we really can't tell Coon & Friends about this, then? They of all people should know. I mean, what about Kyle?"

Call Girl turned to Toolshed. "Like I said, Stan, they're compromised. Cartman will inevitably find out I'm on to them. I just came to tell you he's got a plan, and if you go along with it you'll only make things worse. None of you can give him an inch."

"An _inch_ …?" Stan ventured with a tinge of apology.

"Don't tell me you are both already cooperating," Call Girl groaned.

"Well, not _completely_ ," said Toolshed. "Butthole saved my dad. Stopped him from drunk driving in the middle of the night. I sort of owe him a favor."

"So now you're going to help out one of Cartman's lackeys. Completely selling yourself out to the enemy, just from one little favor?"

"No, we're not selling ourselves out to the enemy. I'm lending Butthole a hand, and the rest of the team are going to shadow us. As backup." Stan's facial muscles twitched at the controlling, almost protective words of his ex. More than anger, the look he gave her was something of indignant helplessness.

"I didn't really plan on coming along with you, but I can still long-distance keep you updated on their whereabouts…" Her gaze softened. "And if you really want me to go…"

Toolshed was leaning forward as to respond. Mysterion stated, "No, a non-member of _Freedom Pals_ cannot accompany Toolshed."

Before Mysterion was even finished, Toolshed protested. "Why not? Butthole's coming."

"Don't make excuses. We _need_ Butthole on our team. Call Girl is a resource, not an ally."

"Excuse me?" said Wendy.

"No offense. But I'm not permitting a distraction for the leader on this mission, since Toolshed will be the one getting ambushed by Coon & Friends." He lowered his voice accusingly. "I know how you two are when you're together!"

"Is that really what this is about?" Stan raised his voice, looking about to enter melee range with his supposed ally. At that moment his friend-that-happened-to-be-a-girl took over.

"I understand your concern to not let our personal lives interfere with the mission," she said coldly. "But I am Call Girl, no one else. Stopping crime in South Park matters as much to me as it does to you. And frankly, Mysterion, I'm offended."

Mysterion turned away. "I can't say it was an error on _my_ part that the social justice warrior is offended."

Toolshed exclaimed, "Oh, _screw_ _off_!"

With a sharp glare she relented: "I'm not going. Fine, whatever. I didn't think it was such a big deal to you."

Stan nodded at her final say, at least _she_ was mature, and fell silent, satisfied enough to be the first of Freedom Pals to head for home. The meeting had ended before anyone knew how to react. Call Girl exited through the openable window, and Wonder Tweek simply returned to the coffee shop, jittery from way too much drama.

The room fell entirely relaxed except for Mysterion, who was shaking like a leaf, while Tupperware cleaned up his gear. Token thought he'd be the last to leave, it was _his_ house after all, but Timmy was too busy working on the franchise timeline. He couldn't figure out what was keeping Mysterion, so he politely said, "I'm off to bed. Maybe you should go home soon, Mysterion, before your parents start worrying."

When the cyborg was gone, _finally_ , Mysterion broke the silence: "They took it away! The cheesing vials… they're gone! It was my only escape, I needed more. It's like they KNEW!" He slammed his hands on the table. "It's like they KNEW I was using it. The world _wants_ this netherborn to suffer, it doesn't matter how." He sat down, glancing at the room with burning judgment. "And fucking Stan and Wendy think they can just get back together again…I feel mocked…" His eyes were glazed with the look of rage pushing against salt-water. "I'm addicted, Doctor. I'm addicted and I'm cursed. But you already know that. You're the only one who knows that."

Timmy the psychic was probably the only person on the planet that took Mysterion's immortality seriously, knowing that is was more than just a game. Don't ask him how a retard knew it better than anyone else, but it was just his luck.

After a long pause the doctor voiced, "There is nothing I can prescribe personally, Mysterion. But if I may offer some advice…"


	4. Chapter 4 - Tastes Good

"That's Mysterion's house. It looks dangerous. Should we really follow?"

"No, we can just take the other way around," Super Craig told Human Kite. "We can hop the fence. They'd suspect something if we all just came marching through their leader's home."

Scott, "But how are we going to investigate what Mysterion knows, like the Coon said? This would seem such a missed opportunity."

Kyle rested his eyes on the manimal, who was standing behind them self-importantly. "Let's let the dirty work fall to the Coon. This is all too much like cheating for me."

"We're only playing the game, Human Kite." The Coon smiled. "But I guess you're right. I'm the one who plays it best."

The Jew scoffed as Super Craig solemnly rolled his arm, gesturing his comrades to a route down the hills of SoDoSoPa. Mosquito zipped ahead and the Coon stayed behind.

* * *

Before the mission, Mysterion texted Stan that he would be resting first. He promised his ally that Butthole wouldn't recognize him, anyway, because he would be out of costume. At least, he hoped Butthole wouldn't recognize him.

A temporary relief, that's what he needed. Doctor Timothy himself suggested that he reconcile with himself, and the Coon. Maybe then the very thought of him wouldn't make his insides broil and burn. He curled up in bed, biding his time, feigning sleep. He wasn't tired, but he couldn't help the distant sense of weakness. The Kenny he was now slept only in his underclothes. It was a shameless thing to do.

The greatest irony was he didn't think twice about the advice Timmy had given him until he came home. It made so much sense at the time. Now he was sweating nervously underneath the covers.

There was nothing but the sound of crickets, what ones that chose to live in the slums of SoDoSoPa. It's not like he chose to live in this mangy hellhole.

Ugh, waiting in the silence was making him bitter. What the hell was he waiting for, anyway?

* * *

Objective one complete. Toolshed was successfully tricked by Butthole into helping Coon and Friends. But mostly the Coon.

He hadn't told anyone what exactly was what he was looking for. It was the assumption that he was looking for dirt on Freedom Pals in general. Who Mysterion was stealing from and how Cartman knew that was confidential. And that meant Butthole's discovery was privy, too. He had to find out Mysterion's dealings with Mitch Conner; he had to.

So he discreetly trailed Stan and the New Kid, looking for evidence of Mysterion's treachery. The whole of Kenny's house was the same garbage he grew up visiting. His goal was not to wake anyone, which was fair game since a McCormick slept like a rock. Well. When they weren't rocking back and forth in their beds. He scrunched his rodent nose when he detected a ruckus coming from Mr. And McCormick's bedchamber. After ten years of being Liane Cartman's son, he figured out what that sound meant. It also meant they weren't asleep. His only choice was breaking through the room of the nocturnal Mysterion. That was the jackpot, anyway. Now he was plundering with the bastard tricks of the Douche himself. Unlike Douchebag, he believed this was his business.

Stan and Douche were long past the room, vanished through the closet. The coast was clear, then. He opened the door, and he cringed as it squeaked. From what he could tell in the dim lighting, the room looked the same as it had always been. Nothing lying out in the open. So the evidence was hiding. In the drawers, maybe. Hoping for a stash of cheese vials, He opened the nightstand, and it opened and clacked more forcefully than intended. The room seemed empty, so he let himself breathe again.

Drawer after drawer he tried, growing anxious. Maybe the closet? His thoughts were interrupted when a form rose from the bed and approached him in the dark. He was almost afraid, but the advancing form was petite, and it touched him shyly.

Princess Kenny, is that you?

The Coon was immediately hypnotized: he recognized the touch, and he had forgotten how much he missed it. Without a word, a Kenny cast in shadow embraced the Coon, head burying into his chest. His heart pounded at the realization that Kenny had dressed in the one vesture of seduction— undergarments. Kenny pulled him into a kiss, and the button nose tilted up, along with the mask. At the moment the prideful vigilante could hardly mind it was coming off.

Mistakenly, he had thought no one was in the room, but Mysterion was one step ahead of him. He must have known that Cartman was on to him, that he could stop him by giving him the one thing he wanted. Throughout the repeated kisses, this revelation turned him uneasy, but he continued to kiss him.

Poor boy, you taste so good.

Kenny continued to kiss him, grappling at the buttons on his suit, luring him in further with his tongue, saying sweet things like, "It was destiny that you came", "I'm alone without you". Wow, that was actually too sweet. Was it really Kenny? "I want your fat ugly dick" No, no, it was Kenny.

"Just stay for the night, Eric. I'll forget my mission if you forget yours." His voice, pure and unadulterated, chilled him.

Just a temporary relief.

He suddenly remembered Mitch Conner had once warned him to tread carefully with Mysterion. Freedom Pals only sought to manipulate him. Until he found the long-sought financial stability—which is to say one million dollars—Cartman could never be free. Kenny's ploy… Mysterion's ploy couldn't stop him. He needed to prove he was stronger.

When the Coon started pushing back, Kenny took it as a challenge and tightened his grip, his kiss fiercening. He moved like a wet worm around him and pushed him up against the wall. His fingers found their way lower, much lower, and began unzipping the Coon's trousers. Cartman's face blazed red.

"No! Not my franchise!"

His yelp stopped Kenny's kisses in their tracks, and, feeling too pathetic to do anything else, he smacked Kenny, sending the boy sidelong. Nothing more was said as Kenny hit the wall with a thud, and Cartman frantically escaped through the closet.


	5. Chapter 5 - Fractious

Flashback:

The next time Eric was seen after the disastrous "wedding", he had come out in his everyday clothing and dispersed the self-invited guests.

"What the fuck are you guys doing here? Get out of my backyard." All left in disappointment, except for the High Jew, who approached him.

"OK, fatass. Now that you've ruined the one happy ending to our game, what do you want to do?"

As the elf had expected, Cartman already had a new commitment. "Something completely different. It's not about love and war anymore. That shit was boring. Now it's about making lots. Of. Cash."

Unfortunately not one that boded well. "Wow, uhh… we're not doing that. Whatever you're thinking, my mom said that I'm not allowed to make money unless it's with an actual job, so no more superhero franchise plans. She doesn't trust me not to go out in the middle of the night and start robbing banks, which is probably what you're gonna make us do anyway."

"Well no one gives a fuck what _you_ think, Jew."

"As _the_ High Jew Elf, I can say, yes, they do."

Cartman argued heatedly against this, until Stan the Ranger was summoned to corroborate his allegiance to Kyle, and then came the Bard, then the Cleric, then the Barbarian, then the Thief, then the Warrior and all the rest of their underlings until Stan asked, "I guess we can ask the Princess what she thinks."

"Yeah, we should ask Kenny if we should keep playing with the Stick." said DogPoo further into the yard.

All gazes rested on the Wizard King, who snapped under the pressure.

"You know what, actually, I think this is fine. Stick of Truth is an amazing game, and I'm outvoted, anyway."

Said Feldspar the Thief, "Really? Princess Kenny is literally the only person who might agree with you."

Suddenly the Wizard said, "Princess Kenny's opinion doesn't matter. Did you even hear her earlier? No? She barely talks." There was a mute surprise. The King did not think he had said anything out of the ordinary.

"(Actually, I do tire of my gown. I vote for superheroes.)" In this very inopportune moment walked in the Princess herself, who had not gone far to her own home before seeing the exodus of wedding guests, and decided to return. A slight murmur rose among those who had sided with what the Coon labeled "DC Comics" in their most recent failed superhero conference.

"If Mysterion's playing, then I think I will, too," said Tweek the Barbarian in a sudden shifting in loyalty. Cartman reddened as half of the party agreed, as the wedding was uneventful anyway, and as one added "Hey, at least Coon & Friends isn't playing". Within minutes Freedom Pals was already reunited and ready for their second first meeting.

Eric Cartman watched in horror and confusion as the Princess led her energetic team away, while he wondered what he could possibly have done wrong. Beside him Kyle quietly cursed Stan.

* * *

It was going to be quite the party, Stan thought as he walked through the U-Stor-It facility. He was "secretly" aiding Butthole behind Freedom Pal' _s_ back while the Coon & Friends "secretly" stalked the two of them. But it wasn't really a secret, not to Freedom Pals. Butthole was overnight converted to the Freedom Pals side, thanks to Cartman being an asshole in general. This is not Butthole's allegiance in the canon, so the Coon & Friends won't know what hit them when Freedom Pals _expect_ to lead the enemy straight to Scrambles. Or the alleged whereabouts of Scrambles. Either way, Freedom Pals were prepared.

He didn't hate Butthole like the others did; the kid genuinely deserved Stan's help, but professional matters were professional matters. Certainly the Coon-allied Butthole would understand that.

It was sad, really. They were all friends at some point. Not a month ago and they were trailing in a line after their faithful King Douchebag. The lines felt so clear, then. The Humans were against they Elves, and all were against Clyde. And the Nazi Zombies. And Kenny.

So maybe the lines _weren't_ so clear. Maybe it just helped he fought alongside his best friend Kyle, for little reason other than that they were friends. Wendy was his girlfriend then, too, for little reason other than…

He jolted into action as three Chaos Minions came charging through the clearing.

"New Kid! Need a hand?" Call Girl appeared from above on her superheroic cue, standing on a stone divider. Her impossible-to-catch gaze asserted she was there for Butthole only, but Toolshed knew better.

That was why: she was always, always, even when she wasn't, there for him. He suppressed a smile. She had conveniently been working as Butthole's undercover ally for awhile, having saved the kid from an ambush by the Raisins waitresses — a feud only the Coon & Friends would be dumb enough to start. Now helping out Freedom Pals with Douchebag's trust, she functioned as a bridge between the two groups. The mental boundaries began to clear again and he readied his power drills.

The battle was nothing difficult. Butthole was a proven pro and Wendy was pleasantly OP. With nothing better to do than to heal, he thought to himself a better way to put it: they were all a nice sheet of glass cut in half, the old boundaries soldered back together but broke again through the middle by a sledge hammer. Some ends fit right back together, shards clicking in an unmistakable puzzle. But such a brunt could never be healed completely; some shards would be shattered beyond recognition. You always lose a part of yourself.

The kids all liked to laugh how they were "fractured, but whole" and while that may be the case with the more… inclusive Freedom Pals, the ultimate reunion would be imperfect.

Wendy nudged him briskly with her elbow, breaking him from his thoughts. She didn't say anything else, but as an experienced mind reader boyfriend, he knew Call Girl was wanting him to check his phone.

Sure enough, she had sent him a text during the battle: _Look who finally showed up. Keep an eye on him. We don't want him acting out._

They had expected Mysterion to go with them on this mission as backup and reconnaissance, but he should have joined _much_ earlier. He claimed he wanted to rest first, and Toolshed and she assumed he was too angry to show up on time, but that wasn't the case.

Kenny normally didn't have any opinions on their personal lives. He was the unchanging, silent rock in their group and for that reason he didn't take change well. Whenever he wasn't the same boy in the same orange parka, such as back when he joined Coon & Friends as Mysterion, he turned out visibly different. There was a second layer of personality as the world was ravaged by Lovecraftian horrors, just as it did now, after the fracture.

He pretended not to notice the new presence to keep Freedom Pals' plans under wraps from Butthole. Wendy threw a glance in the direction of Mysterion, and Stan could tell she was still angry. _Not_ helping.

"Butts, I'm gonna have to re-check that corner. Not that I think you missed anything, but I gotta keep my options open in case there's a power generator." The Amazing Butthole took no offense and continued his typical ransacking toward other nooks and crannies.

Stan crouched down in mock examination while he waited for Mysterion to reach his next sleuthy destination, which by no coincidence fell there. He gave Stan a weary look. "Is there a problem?"

"I hope not. I'm just here to smooth out some ruffled feathers — not my idea."

"Wendy's, right?"

Stan bristled. " _Call Girl's_ , yeah. We're only worried about your… delay." He bit his lip at saying "we". _Us_ against _you_ was never a diplomatic choice of words. Especially against the cornered, tired beast Mysterion looked to be right now. "What's with the bloody nose?"

"Just ran into some trouble along the way." Mysterion shrugged, and shifted in his boots, refusing to wipe the trail of blood that went past his lip.

"What trouble?" said Stan suspiciously.

"No more trouble than anticipated," he assured him, straightening. "All we need to worry about are Coon & Friends. They could be here any minute."

"It wasn't the Coon that hit you, right?" Stan said after a moment of thought, noting the subtle yet distinct scratch marks.

Mysterion jolted. "What? No. Just some rats." he muttered, self-consciously patting the side of his face.

"Oh. Rats. Right."

* * *

They're on to us, oh fuck! They're on to us!

Those were the words that flew through the Coon's head as he scampered, deranged, through the alleyways. There wasn't so much that he was trying to escape but as he was trying to reach. He had failed on both ends of his bargain: he did not find incriminating evidence against Mysterion, and he did not successfully follow Toolshed and Butthole on his way out. All because he was too busy swapping spit with his superhero rival. But Mysterion wasn't Princess Kenny; he should have seen through the ruse sooner.

Now he had to find Butthole. If Mysterion had known he was following Butthole, there was no way the rest of Freedom Pals didn't already know. The two buttfuckers were way ahead of him, and the corpulent Coon had found little release of whatever fury was building up inside him when he exited Kenny's putrid backyard. All that was left was to play messenger, and possibly check on the rest of the gang. The prowling manimal was short of breath and admittedly lost without his lead.

All rudiments of a cohesive plan halted when he heard voices. He hid himself. Stan's, certainly. Butthole didn't talk. Then another, female. He approached tensely and nearly jumped out of his cape when he saw the clear silhouette of Mysterion. Fortunately, he seemed too busy on reconnaissance to notice him. Unfortunately, the Coon had been beaten yet again to his objective.

Protective of his already wounded pride, he chose not to question how Mysterion had gotten there faster than him. This was a valiant opportunity for vengeance, so he stalked as a Coon did, sliding noiselessly against the pavement. He was so close… Only the indigo cloak was between himself and Kenny now. Claws extended in ten directions, he was ready to free Butthole from Mysterion's prying vigil, leaping toward the hero.

Suddenly as a bird, Mysterion whipped around and snapped his fingers about the other's throat. "Shit…" He was pushed against the wall. Again. But this time what once was tenderness was an unforgiving fury that nearly choked him.

"You seriously thought I wouldn't expect you?" Kenny hissed beneath his hood. "After… what you did?"

"After what I did? I mean how the hell did you know I was there? I was only trying to find out more about you, because of the mission, because I…" He couldn't figure out where he was going with it, not without revealing his special trump card about the cheesing vials.

Mysterion was easing his grasp — was he expecting an apology for hitting him? Ha. Cartman felt nothing to be sorry for. Regardless, his hands flailed, and he felt himself lose control of the situation. So he balanced himself on his two feet, curling his hands around Mysterion's own death-grip. "I'll scream."

The death-grip tightened as before. "Scream? You'll only give yourself away. No one here is on your side, Coon. Not even Butthole. I hear you've been making an enemy of him. So there's only one way out for you, pussy, and that's running away."

The choice of insult arose a taste of bile and rage. "Yeah? Well, I'll tell them you tried raping this pussy."

"I didn't!" growled Mysterion. "I didn't, you fucking know that."

"Not like you asked affirmative consent. _Ouch!_ Yeah, nice, Mysterion. Bruising me even more will definitely prove your innocence to Super Craig, Captain Diabetes, Fastpa—"

"They're just hickeys, Cartman." Which were still technically bruises, but he had a point. He rolled his eyes, not taking the hint that the rest of Coon & Friends were on the way.

Lined against the wall, the proximity made his heart sear through his chest as it thumped loudly and he realized a crueler plan with which to punish his perpetrator.

Distant chattering from his own companions came from the distance, but the Coon purred above the noise: "Then prove that they're just hickeys."

"Huh?" said Mysterion, stupidly.

He bit his lip. "Why don't you finish what you started?" He pecked Mysterion on the lips, slowly and carefully. It was his first time kissing a boy, and he was so nervous, but Kenny wasted no time in returning it, and he _really_ bit down this time.

"Fuck me, Kenny." He could hardly believe himself, or that his _wiles_ were reciprocated so fast.

"OK, let's get this with over quick, before anyone catches us." What was Kenny on? The blond was trying to sound serious, but it was obvious to Cartman he was breathlessly horny. He unbuckled himself faster than Eric could sing _I love you, Jesus_ and he was fully prepared to make love to his fat nemesis. The Coon didn't remember being bent over, but he was, and this was more of a compromising position for the both of them. The hands around his hips turned rigid. Mysterion had heard the approaching footsteps. His voice grew high pitched.

"Shit, Coon, is this your idea of setting me up? We're gonna get caught!"

He ground his teeth. "There was no getting you to leave, Kenny." That was how he justified it. "And I swear, I'll _scream_ , and _you'll_ be the bad guy. So there's only one way out for _you_ , PUSSY, and that's getting the fuck out of here!"

Mysterion backed off from him, looking resigned. "You're so dumbfucking _stupid_. You had one last chance and you ruined it."

Cartman ignored him. He felt professional and cold as he said, "I'm gonna count from three and when I'm at zero you better be gone! Three… two… _one_ …"

BOOM. It was at that moment that things became much worse for the both of them, because Kenny self-destructed.


	6. Chapter 6 - School

Kenny awoke safely in his bed, old emotions prickling at his newly amended skin. Before he had been torn to bits and pieces after he had self-detonated, he had an embarrassing scratch on his nose, but both were from encounters with his franchise nemesis. He wanted to say he was back to normal, like any other death. But it wasn't. Besides still being horny as hell, he had forsaken his mission with Freedom Pals, and Eric might have overstepped ground zero.

Not that good to be alive.

Over the years, Kenny hated his all time best friend forever. He would be happy to beat that unruly bastard to shit, whose idea of a conversation starter was an acutely targeted insult. Genocide was not beneath him, and everything he did was an empty quest to confirm his empty excuses, not ever wanting to admit the truth, that things—Jews, gingers, hippies, Mexicans… minorities—weren't as bad as he made them out to be. And that's where Kenny would have to stop himself, because from there that asshole delivered his own dues. Eric was sick in the head, and sometimes Kenny felt he was the only one who saw it for what it was — a vulnerability. And so he always stuck by his side.

But last night he had really pushed Kenny to his limits. Of course Kenny wanted to screw him, of course he didn't want people knowing what a sex-crazed bastard Mysterion was turning into. Even Princess Kenny knew subtlety, when she tried. But then again, it ended up with her getting her balls farted on, and Eric somehow still being okay. Which meant he was probably fine this time, too. Why did Kenny always have to be on the receiving end of this madness?

Kenny was just tugging his parka shut when he heard Stuart was whistling idly in the hall. Not a minute later he popped his head into Kenny's bedroom. "Hey, Ken! Guess who got laid last night?"

"(Not me?)"

His father laughed. "That's a good one. So you remember how you couldn't find any more of those vials?"

"(Uh-huh.)"

Everything his father had to say worried him, but by the end of it he was just confused. What did not finding the vials have to do with getting laid? Who got laid? No, it couldn't be… "It's really a shame, but things are turning out for the better. I was real angry last night, and I thought I'd get as drunk as your mother to see how she liked it, and I guess it should have been obvious, but we ended up having sex!"

Seriously, what the hell was in those drinks, anyway? "(Good for you.)"

"Really, sorry about the cat piss. But I think I'm going to switch to beer from now! Maybe when you're older you can try some beer, too, huh?"

Beer, yeah right. He had something way better than a Bud Light, but he needed to catch it first. His father was glowing, but the reluctantly-still-alive Kenny couldn't bring himself to celebrate his parents' revived sex life. Before skipping away, Stuart added absently, "Hey, don't you have school or something?"

* * *

The worst part would be having to make up an alibi for his sudden death, or deal with the lack thereof. People only registered the event in their minds as cowardice, of Kenny running away. And this time around, that wasn't much of a stretch. Still, what could he do? Mysterion had some form of a reputation to keep up.

At noon, when the mass of orange parka made it to the Pals' lunch table, it sure enough received a couple cold glances. He mumbled, "(Hey guys, sorry about last night. I got distracted.)"

"It's all right," said Stan, munching a bologna sandwich. He didn't question Kenny's vagueness. Kenny didn't expect him to. "We only defeated Professor Chaos, General Disarray and his entire army, and then let Coon & Friends steal all the glory. It's no big deal that you ran out on us right as the Coon and his whole gang were advancing on us."

It was a cruelly skewed dismissal, and Kenny blinked away the stinging feeling it gave him. "(You didn't call backup?)"

"We did. It's just that we didn't have enough warning before Coon & Friends took over. They got Scrambles."

"(Scrambles?!)"

"Yeah, which means a hundred dollar reward. A hundred dollars. We're so behind, they've probably already got a Netflix series by now." He sighed.

Kenny tensed up. The table they were sitting at formerly belonged to Craig's gang, but ever since Civil War it was promptly snatched by a bitter Tweek and Token, and the rest of the gang went to the old table of Team Stan, the which Cartman never wanted to get his fat ass off of. Then Freedom Pals had the two rogues who didn't abide by any sense of allegiance, Timmy and Wendy. Wendy because she "worked alone" and Timmy because… well, it was always hard to tell with him, but Kenny theorized it was to make the group less clique-ish for new members to join. With his upcoming franchise plans, he was the one to assert the "inclusion" part of their motto.

Token must have noticed Kenny scanning the cafeteria, and he said, "Butters isn't here today since Coon & Friends took him into custody. We really fucked up yesterday, letting those amateurs take control. We were hoping Butthole would join up with us but… it's not looking that way anymore."

Butthole, once again, was the buttfucking traitor, reflected Mysterion. Butt. Fucking.

His eyes remained fixed on the distant table. "(Where's Cartman, then?)"

"Probably skipping." Token shrugged.

Unconvinced, Kenny said, "(He didn't… fall into lava, right?)"

Tweek twisted his head towards Kenny from across the table. "Lava? What makes you say that?" Kenny cursed himself as Tweek's paranoia alarmed the others. How could he have been so candid?

Withdrawing further into his parka, he explained, "(Look, he was there last night. Mysterion had to fight him. Like I said, I got… distracted.)" He refused to admit why, but he may as well have, since Tweek turned sympathetic and Token's mouth just creased.

Stan was less reserved. "I'm sorry guys, but I can't keep quiet about this anymore. Kenny, you bitch this and that about how we shouldn't be playing the wrong games, but then mid-mission you prance off with your fucking boyfriend. I mean, at least Call Girl had a reason to be there! And it's not even a game anymore! There's actual crime; we actually need the money if we wanna do something about it, and last night, Wendy confirmed the kingpin IS Cartman!"

"(It's not Cartman,)" Kenny scoffed.

"You weren't saying that before, Kenny. We all know you're just in love with him."

Kenny hummed a long woooow and said, "(Go fuck yourself, Stan.)" He didn't see how his feelings for Cartman, whether he had them or not, made any difference.

"You know," said Token, trying for peace. "You don't have to be in Freedom Pals if you don't want to be. It was a hard decision for Tweek to stick with the group, even though he didn't have to."

"I didn't?" said Tweek.

"Dude, are you trying to convert him to the other team?" Stan turned to Token, his attitude evaporating.

"Aren't you?" Token said. "I just think that it's an option. You can't say Kyle, Scott, Jimmy, Clyde, and Craig are all bad…."

Tweek grumbled between chews, "You could say that for at least one of them."

"…but it doesn't matter. The doc says we're going to be merging franchises, anyway."

Stan pouted again. "But they won't want to merge if they're more successful than us. Our only surveillance — Mysterion — ditched when even Call Girl was off duty. I'm not saying he should switch over. I'm saying maybe he should take his own advice and… where did Kenny go?"

Mouth full, Tweek said, "He left."


	7. Chapter 7 - Cheesey

That afternoon the Coon & Friends assembled to celebrate their upcoming Netflix series, sitting around their grand table. Scrambles was in a cage that barely fit it. The cat had yet to be delivered to its owners, who were out of town. The Coon had attributed his nighttime disappearance to getting ganked by Chaos minions, that he knew the team could handle the mission on their own. In his case, though, it was in the wake of the franchise's greatest success, and it's not like anyone could say they missed the unpopular manager.

Bored after hearing his leader's unnecessary alibi, Super Craig gestured to Professor Chaos behind bars. "Yeah, great. So are we gonna question the prisoner or what?"

The Coon snapped to attention. "You haven't already interrogated him?"

Human Kite shrugged. "We were so busy with the calls from Netflix, and I had to compile all our character sheets. Plus you were gone."

Poor Butters was clinging to the bars, aghast from missing school. With the team's promise to set him free, he duly described his boss's "true weakness of tolerance" and that "the darkness of our own hearts will be our undoing".

His allies were pleasantly stumped by Butters' description, so the Coon initiated his grand reveal, the one he and Mitch scripted for this very moment: "No, could it be? … There is only one person I know who-"

During his timed pause, the door to the lair opened, and his chance to identify their nemesis was lost. Normally he'd say fuck it and finish his practiced revelation, but no, the intruder just had to be Mysterion. For all his thoughts and hopes, he froze up in his seat as his companions jumped from their seats into -battle ready- position.

The daring Freedom Pal hopped down the steps, hands raised up. "Relax. I've come alone. I'm… here to join Coon & Friends." Despite his finality, Mysterion had an air almost as uncertain as the suddenly confused conference before him.

Noting the petrified Coon, Mosquito took some initiative: "Then how did you get the password, spy?"

The "spy" replied, "Everyone knows the password. Freedom Pals just never cared to use it."

"What? Why?" Human Kite turned defensive.

"Nothing against your… setup. But Freedom Pals is self-sufficient, and trespassing isn't their M.O."

"Why join us, then?" asked Craig, betraying his admiration for their competition. "You know, if they're so great."

"They're judgmental assholes," Mysterion huffed. After a moment Craig nodded in approval.

Human Kite cut in. "Fair point. But I still don't get you wanting to join all of a sudden. What is it, our success? That's enough to get you to defect?"

Mosquito placed a hand on his shoulder. "This is Mysterion we're talking about. The most mysterious, most prolific hero in the market. We can't turn that down."

A chord was struck and the Coon snapped, "Most prolific? Yeah right, Coon & Friends has been just fine without him."

Mysterion returned, "You'd be even better with me."

Cartman sniffed impersonally and turned to his companions. "Christ, it's not like he'd be able to prove his loyalty. What's he gonna do, rat out his Pals?" His mistrustful-leader character was preserved, and furrowed his dark brows at the intruder.

"No," Mysterion admitted, not meeting his gaze. "But I can tell you one thing the Freedom Pals were wrong about. They had determined Cartman to be the criminal mastermind we've been tracking down." A spell of nervousness rippled through the room. He continued sharply, "…but everyone here knows that's bullshit. He isn't smart enough to micro-manage three criminal gangs, maintain surveillance on all of South Park, and keep up a successful franchise. Not at once, anyway."

"Right," said the manimal. "There's no way I could be the kingpin. I'm not — well, I'm smart enough but…"

"Of course it cannot be the Coon," agreed Professor Chaos from his cell. "The master is very wealthy, very powerful. The Coon Friends have won but a small victory in this scheme."

"But what's this about 'intolerance'? Cartman, you fit the bill perfectly." Human Kite turned skeptically. He was referring to Chaos' earlier rant about the kingpin.

"I swear the Coon was just about to reveal who it was before Mysterion entered," said Super Craig.

The others recalled this, as well, and Eric was forced to conclude his aborted reveal, with the best lie to his knowledge. "What I was going to say was… that if I were to pick a culprit, it would be Dr. Mephesto."

"Oh, so you don't know?" said Craig, disappointed. "It sounded like you were sure who it was."

"It's a good lead," Mysterion reasoned, his apparent lack of bias startling to the Coon. "Who else would be more demented to tamper with people's body chemistry?"

"Hey, no one asked you," snapped the Coon. "It's not that good of a lead. We don't even know what incentive he would have."

"To test the effectiveness of his products," said Captain Diabetes boldly. "Or to set up an environment of test subjects for future experiments."

And so the conference splintered into vain arguments of why that made sense, since in the end no one could pinpoint a good villain, nor would the Coon disclose the answer —Mitch Conner, goddammit, he was gonna say Mitch Conner! - with Kenny present. The netherborn assimilated into the discussion smoothly, too smoothly if Eric had anything to say about it. And he would have plenty to say, after Kyle had the prudence to redirect the meeting's topic to the Netflix series, and the goddamn conference could end.

Things were still tense during mission assignments. There was plenty to work on, and Mysterion, at long last, was to be given his own mission and would be fully inducted into the franchise.

Said Kyle, "I was originally going to accompany Butthole for the next one, 'cause I can fly around the higher areas. But now that you're here, you're the best option for the assigned area, besides, you know, needing to prove your loyalty."

"OK, what does Butthole need?" Mysterion urged, teeth clenching from the two hour duration of the meeting. He didn't sign up for a movie, even though that may have been what he wanted a week ago.

The Coon called from his desk, "He said he's got a date with the kingpin."

"Uh, not a date." Human Kite was exasperated. "There's no scandal here, Coon. But the actual crimelord himself did call this morning, asking to meet with Butthole at Steed."

This snatched Mysterion's interest. "Really? What did he look like?"

"I don't know, only Butthole spoke to him, and Butthole can't talk soo…."

It was absurd a mute could be able to transmit any of this in the first place, but Mysterion said, "Understood. And why am I the escort for this mission?"

"Oh, they're meeting at Steed, in the historic SoDoSoPa, right above…"

"My house. Got it."

Kyle caught on to the less-than-tacit impatience, so he wrapped up the debriefing. "I'll be working from home tonight. With the new series, the Coon can't be the only one on administration duties. Take care of our Butthole," he added before leaving the Coon and Mysterion to whatever sensational confrontation they liked. Wasn't his problem.

A mistrustful persona like the Coon would never delight for the perceived riffraff that was Mysterion, but in this instance, Eric couldn't say he was angry.

"You know… I'm just confused." He approached Mysterion after the meeting before the netherborn could slip away. "You have literally no reason to join us."

He sighed stiffly. "I already gave it. It's my obligation to South Park to protect her from the crime-syndicates that poison her. Freedom Pals were just phonies."

"No, Mysterion, you're a phony. You were stealing the goods, you're no better than him."

Mysterion's rigidity faltered. "Stealing the goods?"

"The vials of cat piss!" He finally revealed it, his supposed trump card. He couldn't resist. "Don't deny it. Butthole took a photo of you with them attached to your belt."

The masked face contorted in a variety of ways. Shocked, confused, angry. "Is that what you're going to do now?" Hurt. "Blackmail me? I barely just joined your stupid club and you want to drive me away?"

"No, I'm not… I'm not blackmailing you," Cartman half-contradicted himself, and wondered if he was just lying to get Kenny to calm down. The incident was vaguely reminding him of Towelie when he was sober.

"Well, it wasn't for you," Kenny half-sputtered. "It's not my fault if I need the cheese. I've been trying to get past it, but you went ahead and rejected me twice. I don't want to say that you're the bad guy, but to me you've been acting a lot like it." The netherborn began to walk away. "I have a better mission to go on."

"Yes, it's my fault. You're just a victim of me as everyone else."

Mysterion turned his head back, to see if those words were really coming out of Cartman's mouth. Strangely enough, they weren't.

But he knew that hand. "Mitch Conner? Why are you bringing him into this?" Mysterion's voice slowed down to say this, heavy with recognition, but the Coon still didn't respond.

"I was always in this, McCormick. I'm the crime lord of South Park, the Coon & Friends' great nemesis. Soon I will be mayor. You see, I'm the one putting cat urine into all the drugs and alcohol. That's right — cheese. It's why the whole city's gone nuts. But the adults. I put it in your tap water, too. That's why you've been needing it so much. But I know even that's not enough for you, because I'm Eric's left-hand man. You see, I was there when KKK's own King and Princess consummated their love, I was there in your—"

Mysterion punched Cartman so fiercely he crumpled to the floor in an instant — all but his left-hand, which held up like a turret. Or like a periscope, given how it stared.

"Crimelord my ass, how are you to know if my tap water is contaminated with cheese? And if it were, it's because of you? Don't make me laugh."

The Coon remained on the ground, gasping, while his left-hand remained rigid. "That's not me, I swear! I didn't even know you were addicted to the cheese in the first place! I thought you were trying to sell it off for yourself — for Freedom Pals!"

"Of course it's all because of me. It's time I come clean. Eric was holding me back, he didn't want me to tell you."

"No, Mitch! Don't say it!"

Oh my god. Maybe Kenny would have cared about his best friend's next reveal, but Mysterion had had enough.

"I'm not afraid of you, Coon, now that I've seen how petty you are. And to think I was worried." About him getting burned in the explosion, that is — which was his fault, anyway. Fuck Cartman. He was leaving to meet the real crime boss. "Butthole's waiting on me, and you know what?" In plain sight he purloined last night's winnings.

The Coon yelped like it was the most important thing in the world. "Scrambles! No! Don't fucking take Scrambles!" He clamored in his direction.

Said Mitch Conner: "Really? You would do that to someone who loves you?"

Mysterion couldn't believe he was sloshing knee-deep in Cartman's madness again. This was enough suffering. Shaking his head at the stupidity of those words, he climbed the staircase with a large tomcat under his arm and laughed.


	8. Chapter 8 - The Cute One

Mysterion guided his neighbor to his own vicinity of the town. It was a little shameful, the type of housing a hero of his caliber had. Butthole's perpetual silence gave way to Mysterion's monologuing:

"What matters to me is the right thing. They want to point fingers at each other instead of addressing the real problem. There's real crime in this town, beyond our own feuds. We're going to find out who this guy is, and I'm going to take him down."

As much as he wanted to ditch just to spite the fatass, he felt loyal to his new faction. _Suck it, Toolshed._ "I'll lead the way until we get there. You're supposed to go alone, so I can't be seen during the meeting. But I'll be there." That and feeling protective over Butthole, who was almost cute. Kind of like a sister. Which was weird.

Before they reached the crossing to the poor side of town, they were approached by Raisins Girls, with their flashy tits of cloth. Kenny could have gagged. The Freedom Pals had been unsure how Coon & Friends got a few baristas on their bad side, but judging from their hungry looks over his shoulder, it was probably Butthole's fault.

"You've got a lot of trouble worked out for yourself, huh, New Kid?" Mysterion observed.

The leader turned to him. "Trouble? Oh, you're in no trouble, sweetie. Last I checked, you were with the Freedom Pals, and you're great tippers. It's only that your friend here has some _debts_ to pay. Mmm, you're cute. If you don't mind ditching the Douche, we can give you 20% off on your next wings order.… " The blonde neared Kenny enough to recognize his facial features, or just to enter melee range. "Or a nice _blow_ , right here and now."

"Sorry, you're not my type." He struck her down and watched her slide a couple squares away from him.

She screamed, "Agh! Bitch!" and the duo was swamped by feminine foes. Butthole, an elementalist, proceeded to set them on fire, and Mysterion survived the girls' brutality more or less. Still, the encounter aggravated him.

"Jesus fuck, they aren't usually on the residential end of town. Like I said, this is a lot of trouble you've got. I'll help you through it, but I'm so sick of these obstacles. I've got better things to do." He didn't think he was being too snarky, since Butthole was probably used to much cruder rants by a cruder mission leader. The tales of Nippopolis were tame compared to Eric Cartman's imagination.

"This here…" he said when they arrived at the shabby building in front of Steed. "is my house." The New Kid had best not say a word about how shitty it looked. Which is why it was great to have a mute around for once. "Go ahead, I'll cover you. Hopefully we can catch the real culprit without me stepping in."

But as circumstance dictates, Mysterion _would_ have to intervene.

He was stationed at the bottom of the flight with his arms folded, while Butthole rendezvoused on the balcony. Unfortunately this was with the Italian _capo_ -type fellow, who had already been identified as a subordinate of South Park's own villain. This meant no goodwill for the missions of the New Kid nor Mysterion. Just another obstacle, _damn it._ The asshole thought to rant derivatively before finally setting ninjas on the Butthole, making time for Mysterion to advance on Steed. Easy.

Charging forward from the shadows, he backed his friend with his fists against the would-be, wanna-be assassins. Unfriendly mobs had adjusted to the New Kid's unending supply of allies, as they seemed to expect Mysterion when he slipped into battle. Regardless, the foes were taken out without a hitch within minutes. The victory placated the raging New Kid, but a glimpse of evening dress and stereotypical Italian mustache seized Mysterion's attention. No crook escaped the netherborn through boarded walls, not even when he was aching for the Large Breasted Woman. He cut around the corner and barred the way. The target, the large _capo_ , was intimidated despite Mysterion's size, and drew his gun.

"You might not be the real deal, but before you can leave you need to tell me one thing. Who is your leader?" The gun was already pointed at his forehead. Not an unfamiliar sight. "Where is he?"

"I already told your friend; he's not to be bothered now."

"Just a name. It's all we need." Mysterion gritted his teeth. "I know you wanna leave, I wanna leave, too."

Beyond his own impatience, the criminal wasn't eager to get child murder on his record, either. Since the little devil wouldn't budge, he agreed to resolve their stalemate: "I dunno. I'll ask the boss."

The gun still in one hand, the criminal dialed some number into his cell. Oh god, where was Butthole? This situation was laughable.

"Excuse me? Boss? … My liege?" He coughed nervously. That kingpin made guys crack like pussies, Mysterion thought. No way, no way in ever, was that Cartman. "There's this brat asking about you. Is it all right for me to kill him? He's…uh, he's got a cloak, a little terrifying — yeah, yeah, the 'cute' one." The man was disoriented, and Kenny impatiently snatched the device from sweating fingers.

"Who is this?" he growled into it. The barrel of the gun was shoved between his eyes in reflex. Mysterion pushed it out of his face and glared. "Yeah yeah, like I fucking care. Shoot me if you want."

Finally, the voice on the other end came in. " _I won't shoot you, Kenny_."

He fell agape. "Cartman?" No, Mitch Conner. That was Mitch Conner's voice coming through. He threw the phone onto the rooftop, ignoring the "hey!" from the mobster. The phone shattered. He still had Scrambles; he still had to get out of there. In a blind rush he abandoned Butthole and fled down the steps. Before he could make it back to his house where he clandestinely stored the cat, City Ninjas leapt from their hiding spots. Taken by surprise, Kenny was kidnapped by the kingpin's minions.

Not knowing any better, Butthole returned home to his dysfunctional family. The next morning no one would have time to make sure Mysterion was still participating in either Freedom Pals or Coon & Friends, especially with the new pressures they soon had to deal with.

* * *

At the break of dawn, Freedom Pals gathered nervously to hear Call Girl bring grim news of a kidnapping. Chris and Kelly, Buthole's parents, had disappeared from their home in the wake of scarlet trails and stains, and the Coon was the only one who could be responsible. The New Kid sat at their conference table, as well. A silent hatred hung from the Farting Vigilante like a noxious gas.

This was explained further by Wendy, revealing a chilling warning video from _Mitch Conner._ Their prior speculations were confirmed.

"Butthole came to me this morning," she said curtly. "I really don't think he'll be a member of Coon & Friends anymore."

Token noted grimly that _that_ was obvious. He added, "Same as you, huh?"

"I may as well, at this point." Wendy nodded toward the assembly. "Coon & Friends is way too powerful and loyal to their oppressor."

"Y-yeah, what _about_ Coon & Friends? Shouldn't we just get them to join _us_?"

"Not now Tweek." Everyone knew that Tweek and Craig were back together due to New Kid's meddling during one of yesterday's missions, but were too bitter for more truces after Mysterion's self-transfer.

Tweek persisted. "They should _know_ by now the Coon's against them!"

"Well," said Stan importantly against the elementalist's cries. "They don't. It's too risky to do any more communication. Butthole's on _our_ side, and until the rest make the effort to join us, it's us against them."

That's how it came to be. Mysterion's defection was an ill-remembered occasion. For most of Freedom Pals, anyway.

Outside of the Black Manor, Wonder Tweek snapped open his phone, his grievances not ended:

Tweek: CRAIG! I need to talk 2 you! Butthole's in trouble, and the Coon is actually the bad guy!

He waited in suspense, while on the other end of town Super Craig paused to look at his phone. Unlike his boyfriend's open discussion of his relationship with his allies, Craig refused to tell Coon & Friends he was back with Tweek. He had rather they keep their noses out of his business. He replied:

Craig: Mysterion already told us that you were saying that.

Craig :And also that it's not true.

Craig: We're going to Mephesto's lab to investigate a better lead.

Of course, thought Craig, another reason to be quiet was that his frankness toward Tweek would incriminate him for disloyalty to the franchise. …So what if it did? He kept texting:

Craig: So what's the matter with Butt? He hasn't shown up today.

Tweek: That's exactly the problem!1 His parents were kidnapped last night..

To Craig's horror, Tweek sent him a video of a ransom request from Mitch Conner.

"Oh, shit!" Craig breathed inside his own base, turning off his phone. He rose suddenly, soon to discover the Coon standing behind him.


	9. Chapter 9 - Fucking Mitch Conner

**Warning for non-con.**

Mysterion did not know where he was held captive, as it was in pitch darkness. The sun never rose when he had expected it to, and there was no light to answer his questions. For a better half of his time spent, he was infuriated, desperate to split through the nylon locking his wrists together. Not even a Netherborn could free himself of secure binds, even if they were of this world.

" _Well well well, Mysterion. You're still trussed up here, cute as a pig._ "

Relief and a shot of fear swept over him when the silence was broken, seeing the familiar loafers level with himself as he knelt. They were matched in presence by a painted hand while the rest of Eric was swallowed in shadow. "Mitch Conner," he greeted it with civility, despite the surging, explosive feeling in his chest. He had to ask, "What the fuck?"

" _It's been three days. Three days into the past, that is."_

"You mean…"

" _Time travel. The amazing butthole isn't the only thing that can take us back to the Stick of Truth, if he wanted. I have my own time machine, or should I say Eric did before I claimed it. That's what they're doing out there._ " There was a distant clanging of steel on steel, though the room was still dimly lit, shutters slammed over the windows. " _Fighting the Moors to claim supremacy over the land. Today is the day before you started playing superheroes._ "

"Fine, whatever," Mysterion muttered, barely listening anymore. It was hard not to think about rocking tits, ready to squeeze against his throbbing dick. "Where's Scrambles?"

" _He's in this home's attic,"_ said the creature. " _Sheltered where all the other kitty cats Eric used to keep would stay."_ So they were in the Cartman household, but that wasn't much to assume.

"I guess… Cartman, you were right." He paused, trembling in place. Three days meant he hadn't jacked off in three days. This was agony. "You win. You played god with drugs, and you got me, along with the rest of South Park. You're the fucking kingpin..." he said absently while he he craned against his binds in search of Eric's face. He liked Stick of Truth over this. At least the King had been honest.

Mitch Conner looked surprised at his words. "What," said the netherborn. "Did you think I was Kyle? I _believe_ you."

"W _e've time travelled to another period, it's the Stick of Truth out there right now—-_ "

"Coon… I haven't jacked off in three days."

A long period of silence aggravated him, before a reply, softer than before: " _The Coon isn't here, Kenny._ "

His head was pounding. None of this make sense. Against his cheek he felt Mitch Conner's chill.

" _The reason, you see, was to destroy Mysterion. There was nothing I missed more than the lady of Zaron._ "

Zaron? It hurt to remember the Stick of Truth. The right arm reached over his bonds, Mysterion could see from the edge of his vision. He felt helpless there.

" _You're addicted to cheese because of the high concentration of the drug I contaminated your water with. It's an aphrodisiac in high amounts. You've already figured out by now that my headquarters are located just behind your home. That wasn't difficult to arrange."_

Hating his 48-hour boner, Mysterion groaned.

" _The only thing that's left is to make Princess Kenny come back. You were immune to the Raisins whores' charms. I suspected the doses were not enough to break you, there needed to be more._ "

Dazedly he said, "Cartman, I already told you. I'm already too horny for this. What is it that you want? Sex? Don't kid yourself that I haven't noticed this kinky setup."

" _How many times do I have to say it? Cartman isn't here."_

What still looked like Cartman leaned forward and snagged at the cape with a free hand and pulled away Mysterion's emblematic shirt. His breath hitched as the multiples layers were removed bringing back a single memory with Cartman. He still had trouble believing this wasn't Eric, and was bursting with rage.

"I already tried having sex with you twice, and you blew me off! And NOW it's fine? When you're MITCH FUCKING CONNER?" He yelled while his dick was practically popping out of his tights and his now fallen trunks.

He was turned over and his bare ass in the air, embarrassingly enough. He didn't like being treated this way in front of a _puppet_. Even if it was just another personality of Cartman's.

"It's just you and me, McCormick. I intend more than to pleasure ourselves, I mean to break everything that Mysterion represents. I will undo the mistake that is playing superheroes. Here's the deal… I give you a rimjob, and you turn into the princess? Fair?"

"What?"

An entity with the same width and fleshiness of Eric's hand poked into Kenny's ass. It intruded like a boulder.

"No no no no, you're forgetting..."

Mitch Conner stopped. Kenny's face was still pressed into the carpeting.

Someone in there must have remembered something. There was a putrid, intoxicating splash on his face, on his backside, everywhere. Mysterion moaned, slipping into another world with more colors and greater sensations than this one. The lips of the hand became wet as real ones, too, and Mysterion succumbed to his enemy's perversity.

" _We can rule together, Princess Kenny. It was me who consummated our love._ "

Mysterion could not contend that they were playing superheroes, dwelling silently on the Don Felder playing in his head and soothing lick of Mitch Conner's "tongue". But in his head, it wasn't Mitch Conner. The murmurs faded and it was a tall blonde wearing hardly anything (perhaps nothing at all) roving her tongue around into him. Charmingly. As if she cared.

Next he gave him a real blow, oh yes more than the Raisins pretended, and the vigilante began to squeak feeling a busty woman deepthroating him. All in his mind was to ride the high underneath him relentlessly.

He did not deny a finger when it was offered. Wantonly he sucked it, soaking it in his hungry saliva.

Completely pure, fully open, thought the Kingpin. Mitch Conner lets out his truth.

" _I'm doing only what that boy Eric couldn't. I told him all along not to like Mysterion. He's just a fake mask, a fake interpretation of the princess. In his dreams, of course. There's no way the coward child could admit to having_ _feelings_ _for you._ "

The high had passed and he turned lucid again. The fantasy was broken, and Kenny frowned. Mitch Conner was still locked around his dick in a patient, thrumming motion that could bore a cow. The ill-fated orgasm was not hitting.

"I only wanted the large breasted woman!" he protested, unable to make eye contact in his position. He leaned his weight into his elbows and pushed upward, in intent to collide with the fat mass behind him.

"That's not true!" The kingpin took grave offense and that mass pushed back at his rising rear. The elbows slammed back on the floor and his meat suddenly deprived of the contact. A sharp cry and Kenny declined into a new kind of agony.

" _She was a second pick before Eric._ "

"That's true," he choked pathetically. "But Eric, won't you finish what you started?"

The hand was not angry with this misnomer this time. It grew cold, as if full of hate. "Of course, Kenny. Eric will finish what he started."

Arms curled around at his shallow ribs and in this motion his rear again locked against the central mass behind him.

"Fine! Do you wish to see how the Coon would treat you? This is precisely what the Coon feels about you!"

The contact felt like fire in his deprivation, his penis willing to burst, all the while the hug turned to asphyxiate him.

"Is this how you want me to hurt you?"

Kenny was turning too blue to nod, despite the overwhelming impulse to comply.

"And this? Is this what you want, Princess Kenny?"

Fingers pushed into his rear entrance but these were not that of Mitch Conner. They had pointed, silver-tipped claws. A sharp sound erupted from Kenny's throat.

"Is this what it takes to have you back?"

A second hand wrapped around his dick, one that must have belonged to Mitch but… it yanked and stretched his dick without restraint. Kenny's eyes bulged, not having taken a breath since the constriction. He began to cry as his vision blurred. His whole body feeling about to stretch and burst, colliding with his imminent betrayal. Did Mitch Conner not promise not to kill him?

He did not have the strength to say: _You're wrong, Mitch. Princess Kenny was here all along._

The door flew open, loud stompings into the room which seemed to reverberate through the floor underneath him. Kenny gasped loudly when he was released and Mitch Conner's accent exclaimed something crude, with abrupt pause. Recognizable to his experience, he heard the sound of a brutal series of punches. Then came sudden crunching and a gurgling sound of pain. Usually that was accompanied by his own death, and yet Kenny felt entirely alive.

His boots, one of the few clothing pieces he still wore, became very wet.

The intruder yelled, "Oh my god! Kenny? Mysterion! Are you okay?"

It was Cartman. He allowed himself to breathe the name _Eric_ , falling sideways on the ground as his savior crouched to his level. This brunet boy peered and stared at nothing but the other's face. It was clear that the object soaking his feet was a swollen and broken corpse, blood seeping from his bashed head, and Kenny did not have much doubt of whose that was.

"It's okay, Mysterion. I killed him. You're safe now," he told him.

That Cartman, along with his host, was dead. In his place, now undoing his binds with frantic concern, was Eric. This Eric wore a mask, just as the Coon did. Yet the hands freeing him and pulling his pants and shirt back into place were clean of lipstick. Kenny sobbed in a sudden burst of happiness.

They stepped over the beaten and crushed body, not minding the gore staining the carpeting that would have to be cleaned. What was left of Mysterion could barely walk after all the toxins, drugs, and the strangling, but the Coon supported him out through the door. Cape and cloak merged together like a blanketed shield, and they waited for when Butthole would inevitably set back time.


	10. Chapter 10 - Time Travel

Before time was ever put forward and subsequently set in reverse in the first place, the entirety of Coon & Friends, including the merged Freedom Pals, stood at the top of the hill where Mephesto's Genetics Lab was. They came and got Butthole's parents from the depths of the laboratory, but at a price. Butthole was standing behind the entire group, his face hollow with grief.

Dressed still as Toolshed and Human Kite, the two once opposed friends were mutually horrified at one thing. Mysterion hadn't appeared for the entire mission, not on either side.

Toolshed began to say, "You mean Kenny..."

"I mean… I thought… when he disappeared on us after his first mission, he went back with you." He struggled to keep his voice steady when Stan's eyes were widening like that.

"No, he defected after I accused him of being in love with Cartman," Stan said, his voice breaking with guilt. "Now Cartman's whereabouts are unknown… and Kenny's missing…"

Kyle made a face, then made another, until he said, "Oh god. What have you done, Stan? What have I done? He must be in incredible danger with that crazy, anti-semitic, heartless villain!" He cursed himself for being Cartman's ally for as long as he was.

"What do you mean, what-have-I-done," said Tupperware, who was paying more attention than some of the others who were simply tired after fighting off mutant cats, while Butthole was more silent than usual.

"Mysterion hasn't been answering any of my calls since Butthole got back from Steed last night."

"Why were they at Steed?" Tupperware provided the follow-up question.

"To meet with the kingpin!" Kyle admitted, exasperated at the realization. "He must have found out it was Cartman!"

Call Girl came forward, also one of the few paying attention. "None of this is your fault, Kyle. If anything, it's Stan's. ...and mine. We should have identified that Cartman had an agenda against Mysterion after they broke up, and that's the reason we're in this crime-ridden, _cheesing_ mess." She shook her head at the mention of feline urine. "And that Mysterion has been a stupid victim of the drug. Think of Butthole's parents. That could happen to Mysterion."

"Whatever is the case now, we have to save Kenny!" The entire group panicked and went to the McCormick's house to check first. It was void of activity besides the two only adults in the throes of- well Fastpass didn't give much more of a report of what he spied since Toolshed cut him off. Then to Eric's house. That, too, was vacant. Then, Super Craig, who had been gone the entire mission appeared. Wonder Tweek ran to hug him.

"I was so worried!" cried the spikey-haired blond. His boyfriend parted from him quickly, looking spooked.

Super Craig eyed the group. "He told me… he told me what Mitch Conner was planning."

"Who? Who told you?"

"Cartman! He just snuck up on me when you messaged me that he was the kingpin. And he blamed it on his hand, Mitch Conner, and he told me everything that it had planned. For South Park, and what he would do to Mysterion. I didn't trust him at first, why would I, but he said that I had to warn… him from the past. To stop his future self before it's too late."

They petitioned for more information from Craig, but Craig became flustered and said, "I couldn't come until I knew Mitch Conner was in the past, and I can only hope his cronies aren't hunting me down now. I think what's important is that we do as he says. He held a gun to my head. He said that he was going to fucking kill me unless I agreed not to say anything. And I just don't think that's like Cartman."

"It's not?" said Tweek.

"I mean, why else would he tell me to do one thing and say he'd kill me if I did?" he raised his voice, and Tweek hurriedly pet him in a way to calm him down. Right now, the blond had no fear of publicly displaying affection. Craig turned away, embarrassed. "Well, do we want to save Kenny from that sicko or not?"

"And so we'll have to go back in time?" someone asked.

Coon & Friends turned to the frazzled Butthole.

A fractured anus and a swift recovery at the Unplanned Parenthood later, Coon & Friends found themselves in the middle of a fight with the Moors. They obliterated their antiquated opponents and went to, well, Cartman's house. Outside of it was the Coon slinking around, probably to go ambush what was left of the KKK and enlist them in a game of superheroes.

The group looked uncertainly at Craig, who put his hands in his pockets and approached the manimal, getting his attention by saying that he, too, was from the future.

"I am here. From the future. I was sent by your future iteration. Mitch Conner is currently holding Mysterion hostage inside your room." He explained the stakes of the situation, the horrible things Mitch Conner was planning for South Park, Butthole, and Kenny McCormick, all in a few days time. And that Mitch Conner had already travelled back in time with Mysterion as a means to bring him back to the Stick of Truth. "Which clearly won't work, because you're going to save him."

Collectively speaking, Coon & Friends gasped in shock, because that responsibility should not fall to Cartman, the culprit of these crimes.

The Coon was incensed. "Mitch! That fucking traitor! I can't believe he would do that to me! And Kinny!" Furiously he turned around, and went inside the Cartman household. There was determination in his step.

"Shouldn't we follow him-" began Human Kite.

"NO. NO. Please don't," said Super Craig, more haunted than ever. "In fact, I'd say our work here is done. Thank you, Butthole."

"No way!" said Call Girl angrily. "If there are two Cartmans in there, I'm gonna let them HAVE it! "

"Butthole, please," begged Super Craig. "I promise you'll have your parents back the moment we return to the future."

"Butthole don't you DARE-"

The team leapt through time, swallowed in a single fart thanks to a large enchirrito.

"We're looking for Kenny," said Kyle flatly, glaring at Craig as if he had done something horribly wrong by doing what Cartman wanted (which frequently was the case, Tweek and Craig would later concede together). Stan smiled, thinking he was such a brother to Kenny in times like this. It was better when they were all on the same team.

They were still outside Cartman's house, and yet again had to look for Kenny, but their princess was in another castle. Assuming he was one again.

The first thing Butthole did was find his parents alive in their homes, and completely unaffected by drug use. He knew to trust Craig's word, and to never mess with Cartman.


	11. Chapter 11 - Definitely Not Healthy

Kenny, too, soon found his parents free from a certain drug abuse after returning with the new Eric. The one from the past, that is. Mr. and Mrs. McCormick despised each others company once again, but at least cat urine wasn't involved.

His new company with the new Eric was interrupted by the entirety of Coon & Friends bursting into his polluted neighborhood, a battalion ready to set off in front of his home, where they were both standing.

"CARTMAN!" yelled Human Kite. "If you don't get the hell away from our teammate, I'm going to laser you! With my eyes!" He wasn't kidding, because for all intents and purposes, he did have super powers.

"What are you, some gay shit now? He's mine," said the Coon, hands touching the shoulders clad in bright orange parka. "What's that mean to you, Human Kite?"

"It means you're a psycho rapist murderer! We know what you did to Butthole's parents! And Kenny.. you!" The Jew was mortified in what must be sympathy, looking over Kenny. The only flesh seen to the daylight under the parka was his face, but Kyle's mind was wrought with ideas of what the parka obscured.

"(Kyle, Mitch Conner is dead. There's nothing you need to worry about now,)" said Kenny, feeling light-headed and wishing for this all to end.

"Not yet, he isn't." As he said this, Call Girl nodded behind him and swung out her two phones. The rest of Coon & Friends was behaving hesitantly, save Doctor Timothy.

"(No, really, he's dead. I was there when it happened. The Coon saved me. He beat Mitch Conner and the body he was inhabiting to death. It's in Cartman's room if you want proof.)"

"Kenny," said Stan, fear rising again as he supported his fiery redhead of a friend. "If he's still holding you hostage, we can free you. He's outnumbered."

"(Stan, you were right. And I'm not playing that game anymore. I am in love with him. And if you know what's best for you, you'll go now. You and the rest of the Coon & Friends. Mysterion's taking a break, and Kenny's going to get some attention.)" There was silence, utter confusion, no doubt. "(And I mean it. Fuck off, you guys.)"

The Human Kite was distressed. "Kenny..."

"(For fuck's sake! All right, we're going, Eric...)" He turned sharply to his companion. The Coon had been watching him this whole conversation. "(Coon.)" He tugged on his hand.

"Yeah, babe, let's go inside then." He winked and the walked with his old rival through the backyard and into Kenny's tiny, broken down home.

"I don't understand..." said Kyle, defeated. "All that. The fight against the giant mutant clone of my cousin. The mafia infiltrating Buca De Faggonchini. The entire adult population in shambles. Our game. It was because of that? Just so Kenny and Cartman can lay each other?"

"Well. It makes sense, doesn't it?" Stan replied, cleaning the goggles of Toolshed on his t-shirt.

Sternly Craig continued that thought, "The only thing that could fix Cartman's problem was Cartman. Cartman had to save Kenny. If we intervened, we only would have exacerbated his madness."

"Do you think Kenny knows that he's wrong in the head?" Scott spoke up, for the first time in a very long time this mission.

Kyle was about to disagree, but Stan cut him off: "Yeah. I think he does. I don't really think this is our problem anymore. Craig's right, intervening will only cause us more problems. Like it did that first time."

"Oooh," said everyone, remembering the wedding. The uneventful, fucking wedding.

"I guess everyone was a little too horny that day," said Toolshed sadly.

His intoxicated parents could be heard bickering at each other through the thin walls, never to reconcile like Butthole's parents did. Next to the closet in Kenny's room the two boys stood looking at each other. They were here before, in the alternate timeline that Kenny experienced, but Eric didn't. Eric didn't remember how he betrayed Kenny's open petition for intimacy, and promptly. _No_ , he had to remind himself. _That was Mitch Conner, not Eric_.

Eric's two hands were touching Kenny's shoulders again, like he once did, and it was causing sparks in his mind to fly. For once the gains outweighed the losses. Did he miss the Large-Breasted Woman? Yes. Was he suffering massive withdrawal and physical pain? Did he have a solution to this withdrawal? Yes and yes.

He had taken off his mask and Eric's smile was brilliant. It was as if they never fought in separate factions and Kenny's poor hygiene didn't bother him. This was a first.

Terrified for it to be his last, Kenny did not say anything. He didn't want any explanation, if it meant that this spell they were under would be broken. He wouldn't question Eric's methods, his abuse, if that meant that he could love Kenny without any shame. His schizophrenia was another vulnerability he had come to accept. Yet the truth, or the discussion of it, was inevitable. After they were done with… whatever this moment was. But Kenny was determined to appreciate every drop and lick of Eric's tongue, if he could. Not a second after he thought that, it was plunging into his mouth.

His dear Eric was violent as ever about it, yet a good kisser. _I wonder where he got that kind of experience_. Kenny rarely kissed, himself. The parka tended to get in the way, and mouth-to-mouth was lower on his list of physical priorities. But Eric was pushing past the rim of his hood; not even the zipper could stop his hungry, roving face.

The kiss broke. "God, Kenny, you're the cutest thing ever. Did you know that?"

Kenny flushed at the sudden compliment. "(You had to stop to tell me that?)"

Eric glared. Kenny's heart jumped in dread. Instead of saying anything, and instead of punishing him like that frightening manimal he tended to be, the brunet resumed contact between their mouths from where it left off.

Once Kenny had his withdrawal cured, he was fastened to his latest fix like a latch, not wanting to break the constant sense of warmth. They were cuddled on the tiny, creaking bed. Eric smiled proudly at his new boyfriend, and Kenny imagined that the smile would haunt him for the rest of his life.

Their strange rune of silence was finally pierced by Eric's droning. "I'm sorry you're hurt. I'm sorry for what he did to you."

Kenny froze, blood drawing cold. There were deep bruises from where "Mitch Conner" nearly choked Mysterion to death. Despite the mental disconnect between the two personalities, Eric had seen them. He must have identified them: the culprit.

"It was Super Craig who warned me from the future. I had to stop Mitch Conner, since it was the only way to save us from an eternal Christmas. And you dying."

"Because if I died, that would be horrible," said Kenny.

"I couldn't let him kill you. I love you, Kenny. I know that now. Mitch fucking Conner tricked me; that was his fault."

Kenny, still by his side, still feeling close to him, was speechless. Eric loved him back. If that meant he had to pin it on his alter ego, on his second personality, that was fine. If anyone understood that to him these ghosts were real people, it was Kenny.

"You believe me, right? You believe that it was Mitch, and not me?"

Kenny stretched his arms around his lover's torso, eyes wet with relief. "Yes Eric. I believe you."


End file.
